Tuesday, April 26, 2016

I went to know Chomsky's lecture last night, and he was searching for the Galilei problem, which since I have been teaching a course at MIT, I naturally wanted to hear his thoughts. the basic problem is out of the, at least, three species - why does only one of them remain?

The dominant answer - which I do not agree with, but it could be correct - is that it is a neutral allele result, somebody had to win, and we were the winner. the problem with this is that there are a number of contradictions, because as Kimura pointed out, there would be no difference between the competing neutral allele solutions - but there is at least two, we have no either Neanderthal or otherwise who interbred on that side of the line, while we do have modern sapiens who breed with us - in other words, modern humans interbred with extinct lines, but no extinct lines went the other way. This means that there was probably some advantage to our modern sapiens line.

Chomsky's answer is different, in that there is an advantage to the modern sapient line. he expresses it as the ability to conjoin tools to form a new multivariate tool and use that. he points out that there is no evidence for Neanderthal gaining the ability to speak. he also points out the pencil, of the modern type, as having both a marker, and an eraser. these he points out are not that much different than could be that communicates by the waggle dance, while a nearly related cousin does not use the dance at all.

There are many good points to his topic, and I would suggest that people read Barwick and Chomsky's latest work on the topic. But there are a few points which could be better elucidated, though I am not sure that they have not been discussed. the first is, there is a large difference between having an ability, and using that ability. The two are not the same. Having an ability, like chimps learning how to use language, but not inventing words themselves. this means that the chimps have the ability, but by themselves do not use the ability - accept at the direction of human beings. where this is important, is that all human beings are descended from about 100,000 years ago, with a very small number of exceptions - but so far as we know, no more than 200,000 years ago. but multivariate tool usage is only part of the lexicon from about 60,000 years ago - though this is disputed. this means, even on its face, that the use of the ability was yet to be discovered for at least 40000 years. now it may be that it was known about, and that we simply have not found, or at least recognized, the signs of such tool usage. but the other possibility is that having such an ability was dormant until a mutation made it not as possible, but a natural part. Remember, that the mutation can exist, while not being mandatory.

This would mean that after earlier human ancestors branched away, far enough not to be consumed, a new ability emerged - Chomsky calling it "merge". then modern sapiens spread out from Africa, taking with them the new gene as part of their inheritance. this way, only modern sapiens could pass on the gene - while other earlier humans did not have the ability to.

Their needs to be discussion of this, and I thought I saw Christopher in the mix...

If you do not know your
way around Harlem, and Especially around West 115 St., it is a very
different kind of New York than downtown or Midtown – even at 2 AM,
which is the verge of the nighttime ending in this part of New York.
There are no toll buildings, and most of the buildings are red or
brown brick. And everything happens on the street, between modernist
style apartment buildings, and the older style from the waning years
of the 19th century and the dawning of the 20th
century.

Everything was casual, and the cars were lower-class
American as opposed to upper class European. You might almost think
you were in some different city, where the bricks were painted with
decorations for products that did not exist. If you looked in to the
whole in the wall Chinese place, you would see an array of Chinese
workers fixing up dishes which were barely Chinese – in actuality
the owners had been in the construction business – knowing very
little about preparing food. But preparing food was the only business
they could get into once upon a time.

You could also see that
two people at a small table were out of place – there close were to
good by have for them, there accouterments to polished, her handbag
was not for sale in America. It was laden with Chinese style designs,
and was the absolute fashion in Beijing. Which, here in Harlem, meant
nothing at all. They might have been seated at Amy Ruth's restaurant,
or some other establishment catering to the whims of people searching
for the down home southern cuisine – or if you prefer “soul food”
- which some people had a hankering for. But it was obvious from a
dozen details, that though she was tall, she was also not from around
here. For one thing, her garb was white, which would not be in line
for the season. Then if you listened very closely, you could hear
what they were talking about, in this cheap Chinese restaurant
stacked within five floors of ornate red brick floors, and white
ornamental casement windows sealed with beveled putty. The building
remember, was terribly old, though it had been prepared numerous
times in the past.

“You have made me wait
for such a long time, and it is time that you made a decision. I can
go back to China, and forget you if I wanted.” Of course this was
the woman voice talking.

“Until you could not,
and you would be on my phone pleading with me for the next time I
could be with you. But my life has changed, I am no longer a
consultant for people wanting to put up buildings. That part of my
life is gone now, and we have a different decision.”

“I do not want to lose
you, is that so wrong? It is also time to decide whether we want to
be married, I might still be able to have children. That is, if you
want to be with me. I never have quite known if you do, though I will
tell you from when you said that you would leave me – that you were
the only one for me. It was like a tide rolling in, and it set a
course. Please tell me that it had some of the same effect on you.”
her eyes, in all the years that he had seen them, had a look of
sadness. Never before had she ever exposed such a vulnerability, and
indeed a tenderness. Her voice also was different than before, a
trembling and it almost seemed as if she would break. At that point
he stretched his hands across the table to comfort her.

At which point the dishes
arrived on a plastic tray, who was inordinately not interested in
what the two people were talking about. In fact, the No, 1 Chinese
restaurant was a good place to end a relationship, or at least have
one person admit they wanted to play the field, which of course is
the same thing only with multiple steps involved for saying goodbye.

They were frozen in place,
with their eyes locked on each other. If one was looking at them, one
could not tell whether or not they would stay together, she who was
almost crying, and he who was not sure whether he would leave her.
Then she brushed her eyes with the wrist, and tried to draw her self
up.

“Its true, every time I
want to forget you, and turn the page – I cannot. But if you say
goodbye now, I promise it will be over. It has been a very long –
11 years, if you count the conversations over the Internet. I never
knew if it was going to work out, especially because you were so
handsome, much more than I deserved. I knew that I had to sparkle in
some way other than beauty to get you. I knew this from when you
stepped out of the gate at London. That was a very long time ago, but
you were the one I had to have, if I want anyone. It was you that I
pinned my heart against. It was certainly foolish, I admit that.”

“You do not understand,
beauty was not my first consideration. It was intelligence, and that
you showed me back in London. If only I could go back to that time, I
would propose to you, but there were other things in progress, which
I could not share.”

“What were they?”

“My country was in trouble, because a group of people
who should not, and probably were not, elected were going to take us
to war. And my purpose in London was to find out how bad it was. I
tried to communicate this, but it seems the powers that be were not
interested. That, not marriage, was first and foremost in my mind. So
I left working for the part of the government, and took a private
physician instead. Though, there were complications, because I was
hidden in industry to make my way in the world, such that other
governments would not know.” He looked with a cold shiver, and was
not in the Emotional world, but the Political and Intellectual world.
The whole outside world stopped, and they looked at each other.

She
wept, because all along she knew that she was not the priority in his
mind. Just an afterthought, a way of disguising his true intentions .
Then she said: “Was I just a ...” In truth are stumbling for the
word was admirable, because most non-native speakers would never even
know it existed. “A patina for your machinations.” She had heard
the word machinations from him, in one of his grand eloquent moods –
and was waiting for the chance to use it. Sinking down was her face,
perhaps to use her bangs as a cover for her tears. There was no way
for him to do anything but ease the pain, by lifting her chin up and
stare into his eyes, open that his expression would do the majority
of talking. But even after a view seconds, he realized that she
wanted words – and preferably in her own language. So he started
out, though his Chinese was not as good as her English was: “ even
if it my intentions were base, there is no way for me to continue
onwards if the feeling had not grown to love. Otherwise I would cast
you aside after London.”

What
immediately happened was that the Chinese waitstaff looked up, they
had not considered the possibility that he could speak Chinese. So
they were interested, to say the least, and were then motivated to
hear what they could. After all, it was late, and this was better
than anything that they could capture on television, or any other
form of entertainment.

Gradually
she stopped fighting his hand, and her face grew calm as if she was a
little Buddha, nestled in her strange vision that he had not seen
since London. “I think that is why I wanted to hear you say the
words, which you have not said very often.” She mouthed the words
“wo ai ni.” which means “I love you” in Putong-hua. With that
he stared at her, and realized that he had to make a decision now,
did he, or did he not, actually love her after all this time. He knew
that the time of deciding had come, because he saw it in her face.

“Wo
ai ni.” finally the phrase was listened out of the air that he
breathed in. And then again, with more force and fury: “Wo ai ni.”
then he moved his chair beside her and for the first time he gave an
embrace which had no equal in this world, or any other. The Chinese
waitstaff was shocked at this pairing, and from there mouths came
invective, because - to their minds – it was something that could
not be, it was obscene. And then they realized that he could hear
them quite well – and he stared back, looking away from her, and
instead at them, with the same glance that he used quite frequently.
That same frigidness which made everyone the side the counter close
their mouths, and close as well, their faces.

However,
his companion nuzzled her face in to is cheek, and whispered sweet
nothings, again in Chinese, but the words did not mean anything. But
they had a clarity of their own, which everyone understood, because
the truth is that it was not so much as the language, but a deep
whisper of the heart and soul.

Then he saw some like Ai Weiwei outside –
but that was impossible, because he was in Beijing.

17

An Apartment on E 102
St, 10 Floor

New York City, 2012

It
is high Above the street, looking down from a window which was from
floor to ceiling – it was coated with a novel form of plastic so
that from the outside they could not see anything that was going on
on the inside. Thus, all one saw was a very high building, shethed
with glass tinted blue, and one did not know what was occurring just
a few short meters away. On the inside, their were wooden floors –
each one bedecked with different rugs to the tenants like – and
furniture that run the gamut from Georgian furniture, with its long
legs with a single twist, to the most contemporary styles that did
not as yet have a name. She was looking the high window, with nothing
on but a crystal holding the most delicate of champagne, looking
outwards so that he could admire the fact that she had lost a great
deal of weight. When he was not around, she had very little to eat,
and drank only tea with nothing in it. It was her resolve to lose
weight, because she knew this was one of the hurdles to be crossed –
and giving up to these hurdles was her benefaction and duty both.
Thus while she wanted more food, it was like a tickling in the gut to
want something else instead. That something else was to have him love
her back. And was an obsession, as much as the curve of the bedroom
chair was. It simply had to be as it was. But she did not just lounge
there, but at certain intervals would move her body in the way that
is Depicted in both Chinese and Japanese texts such as those written
by Chao Yuanfang, And when translated in to Japanese was called
Ishinpo written by Tamba Yasuyori. Of course, it had become her
mission to learn all of the arts of coquettish joissance, in order to
please him. She would never be thin, in that classic Chinese mold,
but at least her body was Rubin-esque and attractive in that way –
with hips leaning out from her side, and in the darkness were
illuminated from below with an oranges color from the distant lamps.

In a cinematic view, as if by Hiroshi Teshigahara
illuminating the subtle forms of the female figure in repose by
night, there was a question whether she wanted the man or detested
him for keeping her in a prison of their own design. Indeed, it was
not known if she herself wanted to be captured or captive looking out
over the bare city, which was once the capital of the world.

It
still was – for the moment, though nipped at by the the cities of
China.

But
those cities were diseased, and depressed by a central government
whose only purpose was to enact power for its members – even if
Accidents sometimes happened. Of course, the one in Beijing was the
first of many, but other Accidents happened – For example at Three
Gorges Dam. What this had to do with her posing is that the very
criticisms of the central authority, were engaged, somewhat secretly
in some cases, in the very fabric. It was not just a sexualized
position, but an ornate pattern of criticism – the forms of the
woman in the pictures echoed pictures of very different themes that
the central party produced. Even as she lifted up her hand and blew a
colorless rain of crystals – there was hidden meaning. Though most
people would not recognize this – these sensors would, end it would
drive them crazy until they banned whole books of what seemed like
erotic poetry – but the sensors saw criticism of the regime. And
they were right, which meant that people would procure illegal
copies, and poured over them thus ingratiating a purer form then any
which came before. Thus it was not just a nude woman, but a critique
of the Three Gorges Dam – or some other object of the sarcasmer's
directive which took his fancy. And what is more, it was intensely
erotic as well. This was known to her as she whined her hips around
in enormous desk, copied from an original in the Georgian style.
Sweat from her arms and legs, hands and breasts exuded from each and
every pour of her being. It was
both sensual and political act the same time – because after all
there had to be procreation – even if just once or twice in a
lifetime – but the Central Government could not admit that it was
happening.

Think of it as the unspoken agreement that every society
rests upon – it cannot say that sex is important, but it cannot
live without it. Thus her face was both sublime and with that come
hither to me at the same time. In the bed, the firm masculine eyes
were drawn to this, and many things that were implied by that, it was
more intense the .stare of Xu Zhimo. The male organ became erect, as
it had never done before – in all the moments of earth, this one
was the time he would remember. There was both union and disunion
when they coupled after he could no longer stand lying in bed, and
came over to her, and from behind took her with his arms lashing
around her torso and feeling that which was not to be discussed in
polite company.

18

The
Next Day At the Museum of the city of New York

It
was a five story building with columns of the ionic nature robed in
white, set between layers of red brick. It was called the museum of
the city of New York, but really it was what the elite wished there
city to be like – both proud of its heritage, and ashamed of what
they could not hide. There were only a few people who walked up to
its white façade, and towering windows with cornices which of course
had dentils in the way in which they were built. Both the man and the
woman knew that they would procure images which elucidated their
minds, but that was not the point at all. They would roam around the
long halls and rooms, each with the lower half white, and the upper
half a solid color. Each room was devoted to pictures which described
some feature of the city, and what the elite thought of it in the
present. Some were exalted, some were despised, each one was put in a
context of more than 125,000 images that created a collage of what
The City should be like – and some were in the deep distant horizon
would be like if only there was the will. But of course what the city
should be like changed dramatically, from Daniel Burnham through
Robert Moses to Jane Jacobs and beyond. Each one of these
personalities laid a stamp on what the City of Tomorrow would be like
– and thus made the city of today a welter of different cities of
tomorrow living side by side.

They
looked at the exhibits, each one against the blue background which
was the theme of the age. At different times different wall coverings
were in vogue, in this age they like to think of them selves as grand
and massive. Which was not really the case, but it had an aspect to
it - because all most all of the poor people were out of lower
Manhattan, and driven to upper Manhattan or Queens or Brooklyn, or
perish the thought to New Jersey. Lower Manhattan was the preserve,
almost exclusively of the well to do, the rich, or those who want to
be thought of as such.

It was
she who spoke: “Someday there will be a building like this in
Shanghai or Beijing, telling the tale of how this city became the
greatest city in the world.”

“Perhaps
that is true, only it will be in Chinese. But first it needs to
dominate the world, and there is no consensus that it will be so.
There is too much pollution, and many people flee. And that is a
problem, because the billion and more stupid people will not rule the
world. I do not know when this era will fall, and I do not know who
will take over.”

“If
not China, then where?”

This
began from him a long exegesis about how China was both the pinnacle
of autocratic manufacturing, and the nadir of environmental
destruction, every little detail was accounted for – from the great
leap forward to the cultural Revolution, and beyond. He would have
gone on longer, but the corner of his eye glanced across her face,
and he knew that she was not interested in the whole country – but
in a point about her relationship to him. It was obvious that she
wanted to know not what China had in store for the world, but what
she meant to him. And, truthfully, that was much the harder of the
two questions – he could expound endlessly on China and the world,
but ask him what she meant to him, was a struggling instance of
silence. A pause loomed up in two his face, as if Faulkner held his
ground and produced words which in the whole amounted to a void. With
his real hand, he was searching on a virtual shelf for the exact book
which would describe that sweet nothingness which he so firmly felt.

“I
do not think you want to hear me talk about China. There is something
more personal that you have in mind, and I would wish you to say more
than have – because while I can talk about things in the distance,
things closer up I need more guidance from what you want.” at that
moment the corner of his jaw slackened, and he went from talking to
listening to what she had to say. There was, in fact, a complete
relaxation of his body – though it was hesitation, because he did
not know if what was about to come out of her mouth would be a retort
with brutal askance, or a subtle reminder of what she wanted which
would only be obvious to him in retrospect.

Thus,
she began hesitantly, because to her was obvious what she was going
to be talking about, as a hand would be hanging in place to drop a
cube of sugar in too a cup of tea – but she realized that for all
of his erudition, simple things seemed to slip out of his grasp. In
Shanghai, she thought it was a faint in his conversation language, in
Beijing she gradually realized it was not intentional, but actually
the way his mind worked. There was something odd about his speech
which she was addicted to. He was not an ordinary man, fumbling his
way across the fields of conversation – endlessly reciting vague
happenstance which amounted to nothing. Nor was he like her brother,
with a subtle interchange, which when she understood it, was not to
hard to explain. It was as if it came from some paperback psychology
book, which assembled details, to explain the authors point of view –
and then fell apart in the half an hour since she read it, with 1000
holes in its argument. There was something both luring and disruptive
about him. But still she would not come out and say what she really
meant, it just was not done in Chinese or English conversation. Even
though he wanted her to, even though she had wished – there was
something deeper that stole her tongue and would not let her say in
plain words what she actually felt.

“Do
not you know?” This was almost the exact opposite of what she had
intended, she almost spat the words out, almost as if they came from
another person's lips. She had not intended the guttural
reverberations that came out, and she was immediately sorry. But
regaining the poise which her mouth always had, and which her body
had just begun to acquire: “ I am sorry I did not mean that to come
out the way it did, please forgive me. What I meant was that I want
you to tell me what you intend for our relationship.” This was a
good deal more forward then she had intended, the exact opposite of
her first proposition, and inwards she winced at what he was going to
say, as if she had told it to her father.

But
it was not her father which replied, and it certainly was not her
brother – her much older brother who was closer to an aunt-uncle,
then a brother – instead very slowly and almost affectionately he
began to explain that he did not know what he wanted, and in back
draft, he wished for more time to reflect on what he wanted. This, to
her, was unacceptable – and a shock ran down from her neck to her
spine, leaving behind it a mask of terror on her cheeks and lips and
eyes.

“I
have been waiting for more than 11 years, and I cannot wait any
longer.” than the terror subsided and she was completely helpless
in her despair. On his part, though a little bit too late, he
realized that the number of “I” crossing her lips was a clue to
how deep she wanted an answer, any answer, but most particularly the
right one. He did not know if there was time to salvage this, but he
would have to try. He tried to come around and draw her chin towards
her, and begin again.

“Let
me try again, because it is clear to me now that this must be the
conversation which we must have an answer. The answer. The final
answer.”

She
nodded, it should have happened back in Shanghai, according to her.
And he should have offered an answer at least in Beijing. But it was
not London, or Shanghai, or Beijing – it was a dimly lit day in New
York, with the sun not shining, but no trace of precipitation. But
then as if some clock unseeing chimed, they went back to looking at
the photographs, with her leaning in to him, and their hands locked
around each other. It was, it seemed, the final answer, approved by
TS Eliot, as it were.

19

Paper Source, A small
shop on Columbus Ave – and beyond to the Museum of Natural History

Over
many Little racks she stared, each one of them brimmed full of
expensive examples of extraordinarily refined paper, which offer a
different way of inviting guests to a wedding. This was not a chain,
but it had a view stores – and she had been told by the friend of
hers that this paper source was the best in the world. She had not
found so, however, and was looking left and right for her companion.
It had such promise, and she expected to find the right wedding
invitation that would consume all of the good things that American
wedding invitations should have – but she was sadly disappointed.
It is not that the wedding invitations were not finally made, as one
would say, to the contrary they were beautifully stamped or engraved,
on renewable paper in some cases, the problem was that there style
was not particularly interesting. Thinking about it now, she wondered
whether her friend was on good terms with the owner, which would be
de rigueur. Most recommendations from a Chinese persuasion were not
really the best, only the most connected to the person making the
recommendation. It is not something that she did not know, but the
place was neither the best – though it was very fine – nor was it
the least expensive – in fact quite the opposite. There did not
seem to be a reason to shop here in particular, as opposed to any
other place. Only she did not see her companion is here, so she stood
just that little way up by using her toes to get a better response,
but still she did not see him. This was all annoying and distressing
all at once. But behind her she felt a presence, as if he was moving
behind her – so all at once she turned around gracefully, and their
he was with a smile across his face, indicating that he had planned
it all a long.

“That
was not particularly funny, at least to me.” - with a stern look on
her face.

“I
am sorry then, it was meant to amuse you – after you finished being
annoyed that is.”

After
this interjection, she was, in fact, amused – and so chuckled in
that Chinese way. “Perhaps it is amusing now, but please do not do
that again.” on her face was a mixture of a smile and a grimace,
the way Peanuts characters could do, but practically no one could in
the real world. It was rather amusing to look at from his point of
view, and his hard melted over this.

“I
thought I would find what I was looking for, which is to say she was
hoping that I would find. But there was nothing that drew my eye,
nothing that, as you would say, caught my fancy.”

“It
is a nice store.” By which, he was saying, that there was nothing
extraordinary here that he could see. Which is to say, he agreed with
her that it was an expensive, but worth it store, which was not the
usual habit of either people like himself, or people like herself, to
shop in. at this point both of them walked out in to the street And
caught the bus to the museum of Natural History, all the while
talking about the things that they had seen walking down, first Fifth
Avenue then across Central Park, along Terrace Drive.

When
the bus came, he allowed her to board first. They spoke of different
kinds of birds, and different kinds of things in the shop windows,
all mixed together. There was a kind of union in the way that they
talked of things, but no one else could understand how they would
merge from Mallard ducks to expensive china in the space of a single
sentence. Often one which was begun by one person and ended by the
second. It was that kind of language which to people in love might
share, and even to people pretending to be in love, feigning as it
were. On the right side of the bus, there was central Park, on the
left side of the bus was the last side of New York City. It was more
compact, because the east side had more avenues, and more people,
then the last side. Of course there were enough buildings that one
could not see the Henry Hudson Parkway from here, though one could
see the Hudson River.

In a
few minutes on the left side they came to the museum, and got off,
there were banners announcing the star attractions, which all of them
knew would be to crowded for words. Instead they ventured in too the
lesser known permanent exhibitions. Of course it was of the age when
key buildings were in a Roman imitative style, the way things were at
the time.

They climbed up the stairs, with the Horsemen on their left
and in through the wide doors that greeted them. It seemed to her as
if it was a welcoming kind of opening which she did not know if it
was friendly or not. She had of course seen pictures of the museum,
but had never gone in to it – on the other hand, he strode up the
steps with purpose, and it seemed as if he were going someplace. At
that point on the inside, he whisked out of the windows for paying
people, and up to the members window – it was at this point that
she kicked herself, of course he was a member of the museum. Of
course. Which meant that his hand was tightly grasped by her, then
she realized she was pumping the blood out of him. This would not do.
But still in all, their was a kind of excitement, as if she was a
little girl being taken by her parents. But in America museums were
different from China, in China they are, more or less, showpieces for
wares that were on sale. American museums had shops, but they also
had galleries which one could look at. They went around the various
places where spectators would be lining up to see whatever exhibit
was in fashion and dived deeply in too the deeply hidden permanent
exhibitions – past the dinosaurs, and all the other well known
shots that people are lured to subscribe. After looking the this, the
wander the front steps, where it had gotten cloudy. While casting a
look out over over Central Park West – which either one remembered
any detail, because each one was trying to formulate what they were
going to say – but she got the first, even the she had to translate
the language.

“It
may seem rude, but it has to be asked.”

“Go
on...”

“In
person, you only inspire love sparingly, but when you write, you are
almost a different person. And that is the person that I love, truly,
desperately, deeply.”

The
was a long minute before he answered, the way a young child would
answer a older adult – but one that was less intelligent. It was
clear that he wanted to be clear.

“Inside
my head, I am always the person that you read, it is only in real
time that I get confused. If you love the man on paper, then that is
the real me.” But is real thoughts were completely different, and
also completely trivial – he wondered what the last episode of mad
men would be like, because he had not had a television. He liked the
way the television show had made a crack about Don Passos - in a
greasy spoon.

“Are
you sure? It seems you think thoughts about history and science and
economics which seem beyond what you talk to me about. Do you talk
with anyone else?”

“Some
of the time, yes, but that is a lecture, or a seminar. Do you want
for me to do that with you?”

“Some
of the time, yes, but I would rather you would discuss love and
poetry in these fashions. Could you do that?”

“I
write poetry and romantic prose even more slowly than about the
Assyrian wars, or the 19th century. Love requires much
more effort from my brain. I have to hammer things out, and rewrite
continually. The brain touches such thoughts only very rarely, with a
few exceptions – Goethe, Keats and so on.”

“I
wish I could be the one who you share them with, and nobody else but
I.”

“I
write the world, even though it does not wish to share it. I might as
well be writing for only you, because almost the entire rest of the
world disdains even glancing at a single poem.”

“Their
foolish, as is often the case. We have many poets in 100 different
languages which no one knows about, and only one person will listen
to.”

“It
seeking out the differential word, the turn of phrase, that compiles
each fragment. In a film about Byron and Shelley, Byron's character
once asked 'Are we poets.' even for the genius it is a mode which one
has to be attuned to for true genius to come spilling out. And most
of the time, only if you hundred lines are all we have, such as
Sappho, where almost all of the lines that she wrote are gone, and we
can only imagine what is left in the spaces in between the lines we
have.”

“But
we have lines and lines of poorer quality from some master of the New
York times best seller list.”

“That
is about commerce, rather than literature. And in a you short
moments, most of the time, people will not care. And even when a
great novelist or poet dies, we still read his or her greatest works,
and do not remember all the others who made their living from
slinging around words which were originally thought of by someone
else.”

“You
really believe that? Is the better to make your living on words?”

“It
is better, but one does not have control over it, that, truly, comes
to one as a gift, and largely no one knows the name in about half the
cases. Keats dies young, and numerous others of both poetry and
prose, and for that matter music, are in the same class. Bach for
example, at the time it was his son, CPE Bach who was crowned with
laurel leaves.”

“Do
not you worry about being famous?”

“I
did when there was time to be famous in my lifetime. But that is
over, and now I just write for the few people who will listen. And
the most important is you, I hope you know that.”

She
nestled up to kiss him on the lips, as so many characters in a work
on fiction do. But in the real world, it does not happen that much –
which is why when it comes to that, it is often something special,
and something we will remember for our lives. The way the person
tilted their head, the way they looked, and the close they wore.
Everything is etched upon our memory, because we know that this time
may be our last. And eventually that will be true. And then we will
be dead and are remains disposed of by whatever means is the custom
in our native lands. Be it buried or cremated, or something else
instead. We go back to the soil, in the end. Very dust from very
dust, in Chinese love poetry style, with a seal of Beijing over Basho
and the Dao - by Peipei Qiu.

And
so they kissed, for the last time, as if there would be no other.
They cast on central Park West, and they wondered on to Columbus
Avenue – where they protect of Shake Shack - and then on to
Amsterdam, where they kissed again by yoga place, which they wandered
along Amsterdam street until they hit the 79th St. where
they looked at going in to Blondie's for a drink, though they decided
not to do so. So they came up to Broadway- where the 79th
St. subway stop was, and a first Baptist church stood Then on to West
End Ave. and Riverside Drive, and under the Henry Hudson Parkway and
to the 79 Street boat basin along the Hudson River, where they stood
and watched the inlet, because it was not really a river at that
point, and dreamed such dreams as only the older versions of
ourselves know.